


The Secret

by Daydreamer



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Puns, Comfort, M/M, Romance, Secret love, Tony being an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydreamer/pseuds/Daydreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton has a secret that he's only told one other person. Now that secret is threatening to be brought to light and he's not sure how to handle it until he realizes having it known isn't so bad a thought after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing in this fandom. This was written as a request from a friend. She enjoyed it and I hope you all do as well.

Clint Barton walked into the conference room on the Avenger's common floor of the former Stark Tower, now more appropriately named Avenger's Tower. Each member of the team was assigned a floor along with another assigned for exercise and physical training and another designated as the official meeting place for briefings and debriefings. It was not a requirement to live in the tower, but most chose to anyway. It was just more convenient and with the exception of Stark and Banner, all the other members had at least some military training which made them more amicable to leaving within moments of important briefings rather than wasting time going back and forth between residences. The only one that really did not stay on his floor often was Thor. Demigod that he was, he was needed on Asgard often and only came to Earth to visit with his lover or when specifically called upon.

The rest of the team resided in a sense of wary companionship. They might be a team, but that did not mean they were completely at ease with each other. They were warriors after all, some more trained than others and that made all of them at least a little skittish around each other. Clint was not different. He trusted them on the battlefield, but that was the extent of his willingness. He had considered himself a loner for longer than he cared to admit and as such, it made working with more than a single partner difficult at times. He was often found in Natasha's apartment speaking of his difficulties with both the team and with S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Well, so if it isn't the Birdman. That means the last one to arrive is Super Agent."

Clint scowled at Stark, but took his usual seat in the corner of the room with a wall to his back. He didn't think he would be assaulted in their home base, but old habits picked up during his life made him more than a little paranoid. The touch of a hand on his arm showed him that Natasha was much the same. If there was ever a person more paranoid than him, it was her. A life as a spy would do that to a person.

"So," began Stark, turning in his swivel chair, "you two love birds have been together the longest, so you've got to be pretty chummy with Agent Coulson. Spill the dish."

"What do you want to know about him?" asked Natasha with a frown.

Clint kept his face neutral and his eyes focused on Stark's gaze. He hated questions like that. Stark was the type of mind that was never quiet. His mouth might stop moving while he was inventing or sleeping, but his mind never stopped processing. Sitting here waiting for a briefing to start was the worst because the man never shut up. He needed anything, even gossip, in order to satisfy that internal need to process data. Stark was very nearly a human computer—a very annoying computer.

"Well, his hopes, his dreams, past lovers...current lovers...hell, does the guy even have lovers. I know there was a cellist at one point, but sometimes I wonder if that was real or just a ruse to shut me up. I personally would think that he is asexual, but that's just me. The guy is Mr. Perfect Agent in close cahoots with Ol' One-Eye himself. When would he have time for sex? I'm not even as anal as those two and I barely have time for sex."

"Shut up, Stark," growled Clint. True, he had known Phil Coulson longer than most of the others present, but that did not mean he was willing to answer personal questions that would be better asked to the man himself. All of them held secrets that were better left unearthed, for who could be more damaged than people with skills above the ordinary?

"Oh, ho...you sound a little testy there, Clint. Is there something you would like to share?"

"Good morning, people."

All eyes turned to the perfectly dressed Agent Phil Coulson as he walked through the door and into the conference room. As the liaison between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, who were little more than contracted members of the government organization, he was the person they had most contact with.

After his near death at the hands of Loki several months back, Agent Coulson had been slow to return and for a while, none had expected it. The stab from Loki's scepter had nicked his heart and collapsed a lung. The damage had been extensive enough to warrant extended medical leave and left the Avengers on their own without supervision.

Which was a very bad thing with Tony Stark at the helm. The Captain, a good guy on most days, was not able to keep Stark from running over them and taking the lead. As a team player, Stark was mediocre at best. He wanted to do things his way, period.

Coulson could not return soon enough, much to the relief of the majority of the team members and Director Fury. Clint's sharp eyes could tell that the man was still not one-hundred percent. The others, except maybe Natasha, might miss it, but it was hard for him when he was trained to find the weakness in other people in the blink of an eye; after all, perfect aim was pointless if you did not know where to shoot.

There was an occasional wince every so often on Coulson's face that was barely perceivable except as maybe the faintest twitch below his left eye. He also moved a bit slower than what Clint would have considered normal for someone of his build, and once in a while he would catch the him shifted his weight from foot to foot in a barely noticeable motion if he was forced to stand for longer than a few minutes.

It angered Clint that Stark's wild and determined resistance to any authority forced S.H.I.E.L.D. to bring in Coulson before he was ready. And then, Stark had to go making comments about his lack of sexuality. Coulson was barely well enough for light duty and yet he was forced to come and play nursemaid to a group of barely teammates.

But there were other reasons, for his anger. Things he would never tell another soul but one, and it was take more than a seasoned interrogator to pry it from her. He sometimes thought she knew him better than he knew himself.

Natasha must have noticed his tensing, as was expected of someone of her caliber, and tightened her hand on his arm in a light squeeze. The motion drew him from his thoughts and he forced himself to relax. If Coulson felt up to the task, it was fine. It wasn't like it was his place to dictate what the man did or did not do. No matter how much he might want to, his secrets were better left to the darkness in which they rested.

"You okay?" she whispered.

Clint gave a small nod of his head and turned his attention back to the others in the room. He folded his arms across his chest and stared directly at where Stark and Coulson were speaking.

"Phil...what barrels of fun do you have for us today because I got to tell you, I'm thinking after whatever mission you give us maybe we all need a spa day, I know Bruce here could probably use a mani-pedi...I mean going all green and mean can't be good for his cuticles."

Bruce heaved a sigh, a typical thing for him. The seemingly mild-mannered Bruce Banner was a surprising man. There was many a day he wondered just why the man had not killed Stark long ago.

"Mr. Stark, sad to say this is only a down time briefing. All has been quiet and we would rather leave the Avengers free to be called upon rather than sending them to take care of small things more easily seen to by the police force and armed forces so all that remains is the stacks of unfinished paperwork," answered Coulson calmly as his eyes settled with reprimand on Stark. "Namely on your part, Mr. Stark."

Clint gave a small snort. In just a few matter-of-fact sentences, Phil Coulson had given Tony Stark a spanking.

Stark must have heard the sound because his eyes turned on Clint. "What are you laughing at, Arrow-boy? That means you've got to do paperwork too."

"Actually, Clint and Steve are up to date on all their paperwork and unlike the rest of you; they will be free while you all complete your paperwork."

Groans filled the room, even Natasha looking a little contrite. No one was perfect he supposed.

Coulson extracted several folders of varying thickness and began passing them out, the largest landing in front of Stark—as was expected. There was a look of abject frustration and rebellion on Stark's face as he stared at the mound of paperwork.

Coulson was the first to respond as he slammed a pen in front of Stark. "If you want to be a part of this team, then you will do paperwork. S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps immaculate records."

A very boyish, almost cute pout spread across Stark's face. It might look cute, but apparently Coulson had been talking to one Pepper Potts, because he seemed very much immune to the look.

"Clint and Steve, you can go. I'm going to supervise the rest of them."

Clint eyed him carefully. He looked tired. Of course, he masked it well. All of them could mask their exhaustion and even push through it beyond what normal men and women were willing to do. That didn't make it any less painful or the task before him any less monotonous. Coulson was essentially playing teacher to a bunch of rebellious students being kept in detention and writing lines.

"Clint!" called Stark. "I'll give you five thousand dollars if you do this for me."

Coulson slammed his own folder down on the table. "There will be no bribing. It's your job to fill out your paperwork, so get it done. I don't know how you kept from imploding while I was on bedrest."

"Miracles do happen from time to time," muttered Banner, making Clint's lips give a little twitch.

"What about God-boy? Doesn't that asshole have paperwork?"

Natasha never looked up from her neat printing as she spoke. "Who in their right mind would want to try and decipher whatever he wrote. The man is as noble as they come, but he's not the smartest cookie in the jar."

"I thought it was tool in the shed," replied Stark jovially.

Banner took that time to chime in as well. "I think it goes, he is not the brightest light bulb in the case."

"You're worse than children. Start writing."

Slipping quietly out of the room, Clint made his way to the small break room down the hall with Steve at his side. He liked the man. Unlike Stark, he held a quiet sort of company and did not really seem all at ease in the spotlight. He was the quintessential boy next door. It was really no wonder that Natasha was crushing on him. Other than being a sort of time traveler, he was the least damaged of the lot of them. That made him something desirable.

They walked into the break room. Small was a relative term when speaking in the realm of things built by Tony Stark. It was bigger than his bedroom and filled with couches, a television with every channel known to man,every possible game systems, and an overly large kitchen.

"I'm glad I wasn't the only one doing the paperwork," commented Steve.

"It passes the time."

Steve arched a brow and chuckled. "I don't think I could ever consider it that way."

Clint shrugged. He was not about to say that he did the paperwork to keep more stress from Coulson's mind. It was boring, monotonous work and he had struggled with completing it.

Clint began pulling ingredients from the shelves and fridge, knowing full well the space was kept stocked by the industrious Pepper. She might not be Stark's assistant any longer, but she was most definitely a firm hand in running the more mundane things at Avenger's Tower. If not for her, they would all likely starve.

As he began mixing flour, sugar, milk, eggs, and several choice spices into a bowl, he allowed his mind to zone out for a while. Cooking was one of the few releases he had taken up over the last several years. His mind could clear itself when he cooked. He never stopped internally scanning his surroundings, but it was nice not to have to think more directly about anything specific.

He began pouring batter into muffin trays and placed them in the oven before setting the industrial sized coffee maker to brewing. There was a Keurig machine as well, but coffee made with it never tasted quite the same as the kind made from fresh grounds.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped on it while waiting for the muffins to finish baking. One thing he was grateful for was that no expense was spared on the food and beverages in the building. After having grown up on cheap watered down cheap coffee, drinking the premium blended brew was like being fed a gourmet meal after living a life on plain bread.

"That smells good," said Steve as he poured a cup of coffee and joined Clint at the island. "Who taught you to cook?"

"Myself."

"Times definitely are different on even the smallest level. Before I was frozen, women outside of the kitchen were rare."

Clint gave a small chuckle and pulled another cup from the cupboard. He added a precise amount of sugar and cream to the coffee before pulling the muffins from the oven and placing them on a tray. He offered one to Steve, before heading back down the hall. With cup in one hand and coffee in the other, he returned once more to the briefing room/detention classroom.

Every single head lifted when he entered. Stark looked frustrated. Banner looked bored. Natasha was the only one of the three that maintained a rather neutral expression. She was probably annoyed, but was better at hiding it.

He sat the muffins down before Coulson along with the cup of coffee. "You looked rushed, I thought you might have skipped breakfast."

Natasha eyed the muffins with something akin to lust. She knew very well how talented he had become in the kitchen. She had been there when he fried his first egg and when he made his first veal cutlet dinner.

The tense wrinkles around Coulson's eyes softened and Clint's heart gave a hard thud. Having that soft, grateful expression directed at him was more exciting to him than anything he had ever experienced. He wanted it every day, but quickly clamped down on the thought before it could do more than poke its head into the surface of his thoughts. Coulson could never know.

"Thank you, Clint. Will you join me?"

Clint settled down cautiously into the chair beside Coulson. It was uncomfortable to have his back to the open room when seated but he pushed back the sensation and took at least a little comfort in the fact that Natasha would have his back should he need her.

Tony have stood and reached for a muffin as well, only to have his hand slapped by a folder and the plate pulled closer to Coulson. "Finish your work, then you can have a muffin."

"This is cruel and unusual punishment." Tony turned to the others in the room. "Don't you think this is cruel and unusual."

"Shut up, Tony," grumbled Banner before turning back to his work.

Coulson took a sip from his coffee and blinked in surprise. "How did you know how I drank my coffee?"

"One sugar and liberal cream."

"I always call it drinking a little coffee with my cream," said Coulson, ruefully.

Clint shrugged and picked at his muffin. "I'm good at noticing things that are important."

"And noticing how I take my coffee is important?"

The question caused Clint to freeze. Even Natasha paused in her rhythmic writing and glancing up to stare at them. "Even mundane things can be important."

"That doesn't answer the question of why how I fix my coffee is important."

"Doesn't matter," muttered Clint.

He stood and left the room before the blush just barely held in check flushed his cheeks in a bright red. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that for a moment he thought he might be having a heart attack. That had been a disaster. He hadn't even thought to allow Coulson to fix his own coffee, but instead used his vast knowledge of all things Phil Coulson and prepared the coffee precisely to standards he had observed time and again. The words he spoke to Coulson were true. Even the most insignificant thing could be important, especially so when it was something performed or enjoyed by Coulson.

Taking the elevator to his floor, only one below those used by Stark, he stepped out of the window and onto the edge of the building. There were no rails, only perches arranged to allow him to rest on them and stare out over the city. In some ways, it was even more comforting than cooking.

Crouching on the edge of one of the perches, he allowed his mind to consider his options. Nothing had been admitted outright. Hints could always be hidden and overshadowed. He would simply need to avoid Phil Coulson at all possible times. There would be no more quiet conversations over books or movies. No more occasional games of chess. His secret would remain safe at all costs.

oOo

He was doing so well. For all of a few days, he was able to keep his distance to all but the most essential interactions but he could not stop Coulson from approaching him.

He watched silently as the man approached him as he stood in his private shooting range, designed exclusively for him. According to that electronic butler of Stark's, he had 98% accuracy with his bow. Two percent really wasn't that bad of an error ratio when considering how much he shot, but he had nothing better to do than work to lower that percentage.

"Clint, I was wondering if we could talk."

He tightened his fingers around the bow in his hand and nodded slowly. "Is there a mission?"

"No, I just wanted to talk. I feel like you're avoiding me lately."

Clint remained silent. His eyes couldn't meet his gaze so he shrugged and turned away to set about removing the string from the bow so he could clean it.

"Clint?"

"What do you want to hear?"

"The truth would be a good place to start."

Clint opened his mouth when the alarms went off in the Avenger's Tower just as Coulson's cell started to give a shrill ring. It was the type of sound that demanded no more than two rings before answering.

"Agent Coulson."

Clint left him and jogged quickly toward his apartment where he was sure J.A.R.V.I.S. had already arranged for the electronic closet to put his uniform to the front. Unlike Captain America and Stark, his uniform was rather bland. It was nothing more than a protective bodysuit, which suited him. It was better to let Stark, Steve, Thor, and The Hulk draw the attention of the enemy with their ostentatious appearances while he and Natasha took the enemies out from the shadows.

He met Coulson as he walked stiffly toward the briefing room. Everyone else was already seated and the large computer screen was filled with the face of one very annoyed one-eyed black man who was arguing vocally with Stark. This was not going to be a pleasant experience.

"Sit down and shut the hell up, Stark."

Stark looked ready to argue more, but Coulson stepped in and placed a firm hand on Stark's shoulder. There was a stiff moment before he relaxed and took his seat none too happily. At least they were not going to be delayed by more Stark/Fury bullshit. Stark's aversion to authority became stronger the higher up the food chain they went...and Fury was pretty damn high up there.

"According to reports," stated Fury, "a tear has appeared between dimensions."

"Seriously? What happened to normal bad guys and terrorists."

"So far, nothing has come through, but it is sucking pieces of this dimension in."

Coulson stepped up at receiving the nod from Fury. "We could send military, but considering the nature of this event and your own unusual abilities, we thought it best to use your talents."

The screen divided and an aerial satellite map appeared. Coulson pointed to a shaded area in red and then yellow. "There are check points surrounding the space. The red is the area closest to the anomaly. That's where you're going. The yellow is where we have military stationed to keep civilians out."

"Has Thor been notified?" asked Steve.

"We thought it best to handle things ourselves. Thor has his own responsibilities to Asgard. We can't pull him away for something we can likely handle ourselves."

"I'm sure we can ask Thor later how this tear occurred, right now, I'm curious do we have any way to plug the hole," asked Natasha.

Coulson shifted slightly and grimaced, drawing Clint's attention. "We've been monitoring such sites, namely in the Bermuda Triangle."

Stark gave a barking laugh. "You mean that shit about ships and planes disappearing wasn't just total bullshit?"

Coulson ignored Stark's outburst and continued. "Our scientists have created a device that when placed into the tear could seal it."

"Then why us? I would think anyone could toss that device into the hole."

"The hole is rather big and has a strong pull. We're going to have to shoot the device into the hole. Agent Barton is taking point on this mission. The rest of you are to act as back up and see that he doesn't get sucked into the hole. The drag is quite bad and we've already lost several men to it. Proceed with extreme caution."

They all stood and made quickly to the helipad. Stark went to his floor and equipped his suit. He would fly alongside as was standard. Clint glanced at Coulson while the others were loading some gear. He looked rather pale.

"You alright?" he asked without thinking.

Coulson glanced at Clint. "This is dangerous for you. You're going to have to get close."

Clint considered for a moment before taking a chance. Steve always talked about his last goodbye to the girl he left behind. He would get that look in his eye that said he was grateful for that chance. Would this be his last chance to do the same for Coulson?

"Thank you," he muttered before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Coulson's cheek. It wasn't exactly the passionate goodbye he would have liked, but considering that their relationship wasn't even a relationship, he would be more than happy with this.

He watched Coulson's eyes widen. There really wasn't time for much else when Stark came to impatiently hover beside their transport.

"Let's get this show rolling, people."

Clint stepped away and jogged to the waiting transport. It took the air just as he settled his bum on the bench. His eyes never left the figure of Coulson standing atop Avenger's Tower until he disappeared from even his unusually strong eyes.

He felt Natasha's eyes on him and sighed faintly. He would need to talk with her later about what had happened. She would help him figure out what he should do next now that his secret was all but out of the bag to Coulson.

oOo

Clint grunted at the pain working through his upper body. Backlash of that magnitude was not expected by any of them. Metal from the destroyed buildings had been flung everywhere after he had fired the rather heavy projectile into the hole. They had been right. The prototype disruptor had been too heavy to go any distance and he had been forced to get close to the hole. Luckily the pull from the tear had taken hold of the metal projectile and had finished carrying the remainder of the way.

The hole had all but imploded and the wave of energy had send everyone flying.

A rather long, slender piece of metal had skewered his shoulder before he could even think to move and he had been buried beneath several tons of rock. All he could think of when he lay buried was that he was glad he had taken a page from Roger's playbook and kissed Coulson. He could die with at least some peace.

But fate had other plans not involving his death. The rocks began to shift along with the vague sound of shouts coming from above. He recognized Steve's voice as he short orders around like the soldier he was. When fresh air touched his face, he was never so happy to see that ugly metal mug of Stark.

"Found him."

The remainder of the rocks were pushed away and he couldn't fight the groan that escaped him as he was pulled free. The pain was ten times worse as he was lifted into metal arms. God, Stark would never let him live this down.

"Put him down over here so the med team can have a look at him." That was Coulson's voice. When had he arrived?

"Clint, can you hear me?" he asked.

Clint felt a gentle touch brushing at his cheeks and he turned into the touch. It felt so wonderful even through the agony of having a steel rod piercing through his chest.

"Status?" barked Coulson to the medics giving Clint a once over.

"We're going to have to lift him to base. We can't risk removing that rod until we know what it's piercing."

Coulson frowned, but nodded and stepped from Clint's view. In the background, he could hear him speaking calmly to the remaining team members as he was wheeled away on a stretcher to a waiting medi-vac transport. He tried to keep conscious but the loss of blood and the pain were driving him into that dark abyss of which he welcomed.

How long he remained unconscious was unknown to him. His body shuddered and his eyes fluttered open. The pain was still there and it hurt like a motherfucker, but that raw edge to it was greatly diminished. He swallowed and found his throat parched and his tongue like a fat, dry organ in his mouth. The room was dark, but there was a slight shuffling before a small bedside light flickered to life followed by a straw being pressed to his lips.

The water felt wonderful in his dry mouth and soothed all the way down to his stomach. He could have drunk a gallon of it if not for it being tugged away from him.

"Not too fast. You'll make yourself sick."

That voice...Coulson?

"What happened?" he croaked and internally winced at the sound of his voice. "The mission?"

"Successful. You've been in and out of consciousness for a few days. That metal rod did a number on you. You're going to be out of commission for a while."

"Damn," groaned Clint.

"Just worry about healing, I'll let the others know that you're cognizant."

Clint's good arm shot out and latched onto the edge of his suit jacket. "Stay."

Coulson relaxed and nodding. "Alright."

With a relaxed breath, Clint kept his eyes on Coulson. "Did you figure out my secret?"

Coulson stared at him, a small smile curving his lips. It wasn't that neutral smile he used when talking with Stark or when on a mission. There was real feeling in those eyes. "What secret is that?"

Clint smiled and closed his eyes. "I'll tell you later."

"You do that, Clint."

Clint relaxed with a smile on his lips at the sound of his given name. This time when sleep took him, it was not unconsciousness but a true sleep of healing. As he drifted away, he felt a warm hand slid into his and knew things would be alright between them.

The End


End file.
